Page 44 of The Silver Fox Brother

“Of course. Please, have a seat.” I gesture to the conference table where Maya has arranged the mood boards and material samples.

“Can I get you anything? Coffee, water?”

“I’m fine, thank you. I just had an espresso downstairs.” She settles into the chair, her gaze immediately drawn to the mood boards.

“Is this for my project?”

“Initial concepts based on the photos you sent. I wanted to give you a sense of direction before we dive into details.”

She leans forward, studying the boards with the focus of someone who’s done this before. The first board shows the entry and main staircase—original details preserved and highlighted, a palette of warm whites and soft grays, modern lighting that complements rather than competes with the architecture.

“This is beautiful,” she says quietly.

“You kept the moldings.”

“Of course. That’s the soul of the house. My approach is to honor what’s already there while creating a flow that works for how you actually live.”

She nods, moving to the second board—the kitchen. I’ve mocked up a design that opens the space to the adjoining dining room, removes the wall that’s currently choking off natural light, and introduces custom cabinetry in a warm walnut with marble counters and brass fixtures.

“You’re taking out this wall?” She points to the rendering.

“Yes. Right now, the kitchen is closed off, dark, disconnected from the rest of the main floor. Removing that wall creates a sightline from the entry through to the back of the house. It makes the space feel twice as large and brings in the natural light from those south-facing windows in the dining room.”

Victoria sits back, considering.

“My husband will love this. He’s been saying for years that the kitchen feels like a cave.”

“It does. But it doesn’t have to.” I pull out a material sample—the walnut I’m proposing for the cabinetry.

“This is the finish I’m thinking for the built-ins. It’s warm, substantial, ages beautifully. Pair it with Calacatta marble and unlacquered brass, and you get a kitchen that feels both classic and current.”

She runs her hand over the wood sample, testing the grain.

“How long have you been doing this?”

“Five years. Started the firm right out of grad school.”

“And the West Village project I saw in the design blogs—that was yours?”

“Yes. That’s actually being featured in Architectural Digest’s November issue.”

Her eyebrows go up, impressed.

“That’s quite an accomplishment.”

“It was a labor of love. The clients gave me full creative control, which doesn’t happen often. But when it does, you can really push boundaries.”

Victoria sets the wood sample down, her expression thoughtful.

“I’ll be honest with you, Winter. I’ve met with three otherdesigners over the past two months. All of them wanted to gut the house completely, start from scratch, turn it into something modern and cold. That’s not what I want.”

“What do you want?”

She looks at the mood boards again.

“I want it to feel like a home. A beautiful home, yes, but a place where my family actually wants to spend time. Not a museum.”

This is the moment. The moment where I either understand a client or I don’t.